All the Rings of the Oak Tree
by Alsemero
Summary: Some faces from Ryan's past resurface. They want revenge. And to get at Ryan, they've taken Seth...
1. Sanctuary

Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely affiliated with The O.C.

Warnings: Story will contain strong language and violence.

Set in Season 1. This is my first fic so I hope the formatting's okay!

The Sanctuary parking lot was deserted. Twenty minutes after closing time, the only sound was the distant throb of music coming from a boom box on the nearby beach and the muttered sounds of an argument emanating from the sole van that remained parked in the lot.

"...we should have just taken him when he was walking to the car."

"With about twenty witnesses? Use your fuckin' head." The answering voice came from the right of the seat, courtesy of a hulking guy, muscles confined by a red plaid shirt.

"You got a better idea? We gonna drive up to the big fancy house and just ask politely?" The original speaker had a slight whine to his voice, nervously scrabbling at the lighter in his hand, flicking it on and off.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you."

The third speaker was sudden and harsh, silently motioning towards the figure that had appeared at the edge of the lot and was stumbling in the direction of the Sanctuary. He tracked the progression of the interloper, narrowing his eyes as he watched, slowly considering.

"Isn't that the kid who was with him earlier?"

"What?" The Lighter guy leaned forward in his seat, attempting to focus his gaze into the darkness of the lot.

"The skinny kid, remember? He cracked some joke about Batman or some shit like that". Another realisation came to him. "He's the rich kid he's living with. He was at the house."

"Oh yeah," said Lighter, as Plaid Shirt nodded in recognition. "Whadda we do?"

The third speaker paused, weighing his options.

"We go get him."

Seth Cohen was drunk. He had been drunk ever since the third beer, and the tequila slammer and Jack and coke hadn't exactly helped. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk, but he was definitely drunk enough to find the fact he'd left his wallet at the Sanctuary Bar funny rather than annoying.

He hadn't realised this until Summer (the sole designated driver) had dropped him, Ryan and Marissa back at the Cohen's and driven off into the night. Ryan had offered to walk back with him but Seth could see that he wanted to say goodnight to Marissa and so Seth had nobly declared that the walk would do him good. It wasn't too far and besides, the night was balmy and the alcohol had infused a warm buzz through his body, a sense of well being. A year ago he wouldn't have been getting drunk at the Sanctuary. A year ago, he'd have had no friends to go with. But then Ryan had come and everything got a hell of a lot better for everyone. Except for Marissa with the whole suicide attempt thing. And Luke with the whole getting shot thing. And Jimmy Cooper with the whole fraud thing.

Okay, maybe things had just got better for him.

But still. Seth was smiling as he rounded into the Sanctuary parking lot, humming a Death Cab song under his breath as he (slightly unsteadily) made his way across to the entrance. He didn't even hear the guys approach until they were a few metres away.

"Hey, man."

Seth looked up to see a tall, wiry guy in front of him. He was almost good-looking, but something was slightly off – perhaps the faded white scar spanning his right temple, or the slight dangerous look in his eye that he couldn't quite disguise, even when smiling. Like he was now.

"Uh, hey," Seth said. He noticed the wiry guy was flanked by two others, a muscled giant in a plaid shirt and a small guy with a silver lighter in his hand. He felt a slight shiver of unease, but the drunken buzz persisted, overriding his nerves.

_It's not like they can mug me, being sans wallet and all_ Seth thought and suppressed a giggle.

"Something funny, man?" Lighter suddenly spoke up, moving forward slightly. The wiry guy gave his friend a sharp look and he stopped, flicking his lighter as he moved back again.

"No, uh, no," Seth said, suddenly feeling like he had to justify himself to a perfect stranger. "Uh, I'm just on my way inside so..."

"You know Ryan Atwood?" the wiry guy asked.

"Yeah." Seth regarded him hesitantly. "You guys friends?"

"Yeah. We go way back. In fact, we've come to town to see him."

"Oh. Oh, great. Does he, uh, know you're here?"

The wiry guy smiled like a snake. "Not yet." Then his expression suddenly became sincere. "We wanna surprise him, see? You can't take us to where he lives, can you? We'll give you a lift," he said, jerking his thumb at the van behind them.

Seth wasn't stupid. He might have been drunk, but his instincts were telling him something was seriously off with these guys and he wasn't about to get into a confined space with them. Besides, friends of Ryan's were most likely Chino guys – and on the rare occasions Ryan talked about Chino, the people there sounded... unpredictable at best.

"Uh... actually, it's kinda late. I don't really have time to go to Ryan's house and then my own, you know? I gotta, uh, get up early so..."

No need to tell them Ryan's and his house were actually the same place. Still, Seth held his breath as he met wiry guy's gaze. To his surprise and great relief, the dude cracked a grin.

"No problem, man, it is pretty late. We'll probably go find a motel or something and try and hook up with Ryan tomorrow."

"Okay, cool. Well, I might see you some time..." Seth said, with a half smile, suddenly feeling like an idiot. For all he knew, these guys were Ryan's best friends and he was here treating them like America's Most Wanted.

"Sure. See ya, man," Wiry Guy said with a wave, turning back to his friends.

Seth shook his head at his own paranoia as he resumed his walk towards the Sanctuary entrance. _Maybe we can all hang out tomorrow after they've surprised Ryan. Be nice to talk to some of the people he grew up with. Maybe we can all go out to that new-_

Seth's musings came to an abrupt end as a crowbar made a solid connection with the back of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Hope you didn't hit him too hard," Lighter said, smirking.

"Shut up and bring the van over," the wiry guy said, looking dispassionately down at the prostrate form of Ryan Atwood's friend. Atwood. Even the mention of his name induced such a choking feeling of rage in the wiry guy that it was all he could do not the hack the kid to bits there and then and leave him for Atwood to find in the morning. But, no. This way was better.

The van reversed up and parked alongside them. Plaid Shirt threw open the back doors before picking the figure up from the ground and throwing him in the back with considerable ease. As though he weighed nothing at all.


	2. Awakening

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Thank you to better-days for my first ever review! Hope you enjoy this chapter...

At ten thirty, Ryan wasn't worried. That was when he got up, padded into the kitchen and noted the absence of Seth's morning rituals of cereal, cartoons and unstoppable chatter.

_Sleeping it off _Ryan thought, and couldn't help smiling to himself. Half the time in Newport, he still felt like he was shooting a movie without knowing his lines, but last night had been one of the times when he felt like he belonged. Seth had been hilariously wasted, talking a mile a minute about the superhero movie he was going to write one day, and trying to persuade the girls to dance on the bar (or do a 'Coyote Ugly' as Seth called it, confessing his secret love for the film – Ryan planned on reminding him of that as soon as he surfaced). Ryan poured himself a glass of juice and sat down to await Seth's arrival.

At half past eleven, Ryan still wasn't worried. However, he decided to repay Seth's early morning coffee visits to the pool house by bringing him up a cup. Only when he gently tapped on Seth's bedroom door, eventually pushing it open and peeking round the side, Seth wasn't there.

So. Either Seth had gotten up early and gone out, or he'd stayed at Summer's last night. Both were plausible. Ryan reasoned that Seth might be taking advantage of Sandy and Kirsten's weekend trip to see The Nana to stay out all night without recrimination. Fair enough. Ryan settled down in front of the TV, wondering what Summer's face had been like when Seth had stumbled through her door at two in the morning.

At quarter past one, Ryan wasn't worried, not really. More curious. The first prickling of anxiety came when he called Summer and she said she hadn't seen Seth since she dropped them off last night.

"Don't worry, Chino. He probably forgot his way to your house and crashed with one of his comic book nerds."

"Probably," Ryan agreed. "His phone's switched off though..."

"This is Cohen we're talking about, okay? He works in, like, mysterious ways. He'll turn up sooner or later."

"Yeah. Sorry to bother you."

"It's cool. Oh, and Chino... if he was with a girl last night, you can tell him there's no place on earth he can hide from my rage."

"Right. Rage. Got it."

Ryan felt better when he'd hung up. Despite appearances to the contrary, Summer was actually pretty sensible and she'd managed to reassure Ryan. Still...

This was Seth they were talking about. The only real friend he'd ever had, one of the best things Newport had to offer him. Ryan couldn't help running all the worst case scenarios through his mind; Seth could have been hit by a car, he could have passed out somewhere, he could have been attacked by water polo jocks... And he didn't have his wallet, what if he was lying unconscious in a hospital bed with no identification? Or what if...

Ryan forced himself to stop. It was instinctive after growing up in Chino to expect the worst, because the worst was nearly always what had happened. But this was Newport; safe, rich, clean cut. Seth was fine. Jesus, it was only half past one. Ryan let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. Everything was okay. This was not Chino and Seth was not Dawn or Trey, with their unnerving talent for getting into trouble.

Still, he couldn't help sighing in relief when he phone rang and the caller ID was Seth's.

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The first thing he was aware of was that the lights were far too bright. Even with his eyes shut, Seth could feel the brightness burning into his pupils.

_I must have left the curtains open _he realised, and winced because he was suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his head, enough to make him dizzy. His thoughts were coming slowly, disconnected and sluggish, filtering through the headache. Even as one whispered that this was a hell of a hangover, a new voice was cutting through, urgent, telling him that something was very, very wrong. Seth's mind was clearing enough for him to realise that he was upright, sat on a chair. He tried to bring his hands round to massage his temples and found he couldn't. They were tied behind him.

It took him a moment to process this revelation, and then his eyes flew open. The sudden flood of light left him squinting until his vision finally cleared and he could see his surroundings.

He was in a basement. He could see the stairs leading down in front of him, a dirty window to the side, and a single light bulb swinging above his head. He looked down and took in the chair he was sitting on, looked behind to see the cord around his hands. For a long minute he just sat there, paralysed. Then fear came crashing down on him.

_Where the hell am I? How did I get here? Why am I tied up?_

The questions circled in his head, but there were no answers, he couldn't think. The throbbing in his head intensified, he felt sick and he began tugging frantically at the cord binding his hands. It was getting harder to breathe the more he panicked and the lone rational voice in his head told him to calm down. To think.

With some effort he managed to regulate his breathing and his head cleared a little more. _Think back to last night. What happened? _Seth remembered the Sanctuary, the drinks. He remembered Summer driving them home. He remembered... walking back to the bar? What? Why would he do that? And then it came to him... _the wallet, I left my wallet. And I went back and then... and then I met some people, didn't I? They were... looking for something too? Or someone? Why would they- _Then he remembered that they were Ryan's friends, they wanted to find him. _And then, they offered me a lift and I – I said no and then... Then what? _Seth tried to force his mind to picture the scene, but he could not for the life of him recall what had happened next. He had walking away, hadn't he? And he was going to the entrance, and... had he heard footsteps?

Suddenly, with a sickening lurch in his stomach, Seth remembered exactly what had happened. Something had hit him in the back of the head.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. _

He had been right about those guys. But why would have hit him? Taken him here? Was it a ransom thing? _It must be. _Quite a few people in Chino probably knew by now that Ryan had gone to live in Newport. Had gone to live with some rich family. So that was it. Seth tried hard not to think of every episode of Without a Trace or CSI he'd watched when ransoms had gone horribly wrong. Or when the kidnappers got the money and went ahead and shot their hostage anyway.

He didn't have long to dwell. The door to the basement suddenly swung open and Seth instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to delay the inevitable. He heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, track down the stairs and approach him. Then another set, and another followed the first down.

"He not awake yet?"

Seth tried to keep his breathing even, but to no avail. A sharp crack rang through the air as the wiry guy backhanded him across the face. His eyes flew open involuntarily, blinking back the sudden pain in his jaw.

"He is now," said the wiry guy, with grim satisfaction.

Seth surveyed them quickly, and spoke before he could stop himself.

"What do you want?"

"I'd shut up if I was you," the wiry guy said sharply. "You'll get your chance to talk in a minute." He held something in the hand, and as he held it up Seth could see that it was his phone.

"Okay, pretty boy. It's time to call your friend Ryan, see if he wants to come over and play."

"Ryan?" Seth said, confused. "He doesn't have any money. You should call my parents. Or my grandfather. Or-" Seth bit his tongue, irritated that fear was compelling him to help his kidnappers. And for some reason, the wiry guy looked furious.

"Don't insult us. This is about so much more than money. Now, shut the fuck up and talk into the phone when I tell you."

Seth was confused. But there was a growing dread in his mind that maybe this was something that this really wasn't about him at all, something more personal, some vendetta against Ryan. And that was so much worse than a ransom.

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Ryan leaned over and picked up his phone, flicking it open.

"Seth, man, where are you?" Ryan readied himself for a string of incoherent babble explaining exactly where Seth had been for every single minute of the last twelve hours in less than thirty seconds.

"Seth's kind of tied up right now. I guess you'll have to settle for me."

Ryan had heard the expression 'his blood ran cold' before, but he'd never taken it literally until now. The voice was unmistakeable. One he'd spent sleepless nights praying that he'd never hear again.

"James," he said numbly.

"You remember me?" the voice said, mockingly. "I'm touched, Atwood. Cos I definitely remember you."

Ryan was having trouble thinking straight. He couldn't find any words, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. Then Seth flashed before his mind's eye.

"Where's is he?" Ryan said, trying to control his voice.

"Who, pretty boy? He's right here. Dying to see you again Atwood." James lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "Between you and me, he's seems kinda upset about something. Is there trouble at home?"

"Let him go." Ryan enunciated every word.

"I don't think so. But if you want him back, why don't you come pick him up?"

It was a trap. Ryan knew it was a trap. But he didn't care. This was his problem, he had to deal with it, and if there was any chance he could get Seth out...

"Fine." Ryan's voice was quiet, but clear. "But I want to speak to him."

"Sure. Pretty boy, you're on." There was a scuffling noise and suddenly Seth's voice came down the line.

"Ryan?"

_God, he sounds terrified. _

Ryan tried to sound as calm as possible. "Seth, it's okay. I'm coming. I'm coming to get you."

"Ryan, who are they? What are they-" Seth's voice was cut off as James reclaimed the line.

"We can all catch up later. Now listen. Come to the alleyway behind the Red Apple Diner at 3 today. No police, no tricks, and no telling anyone else. Got it?"

Ryan's reply was instantaneous. "Yes."

"I hope you do, man. I'd hate to have to, you know, do anything..." James' voice trailed off and two seconds later the sound of Seth screaming came down the line. Ryan gripped the edge of the table, horror coursing through his body. _Seth... _

"What the fuck did you just do?" he gritted out.

"It was just a friendly warning," James said calmly. "He ain't exactly Rambo is he, your little friend? I hope we don't break him before you get here."

"If you hurt him... I will fucking kill you," Ryan said in a low voice, feeling a terrible anger rising inside him.

James sounded amused. "You can try. See you at three, Atwood."

Then the phone line went dead.


	3. Disconnected

Disclaimer: I own nada.

Thanks again better-days! I don't care if you're the only one reading this fic, that's good enough for me...

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Five minutes after the phone line disconnected, Ryan was still sat in the same chair. He was dimly aware that he should be moving, planning, doing something... but his entire body felt weighed down.

James. James Foster. As he sat there, Ryan realised he'd always known that James would reappear, that Ryan could never have gotten away from him. He'd let himself believe that he would never see James again, but that was just wishful thinking. Deep down, he'd always known that it wasn't over yet. But even in his darkest imaginings of their reunion, Seth had never been involved. Not Seth.

Ryan suddenly felt tired. Tired, and old.

The phone in his hand suddenly lit up, snapping him out of his daze. He jabbed at the keypad frantically; fear giving way to disappointment when he noted that it was just a text from Summer, asking if Seth was back yet.

It was enough to bring him back to the world. Trying to force his brain into analysis, Ryan sorted through the facts. The Red Apple Diner, at three. The diner was in Chino, which made sense – wherever James was living now, it was probably somewhere in the old neighborhood.

Who was James with? It wasn't his style to act alone, and Ryan had heard other voices in the background of the phone call. Steve, most likely. Probably Max, too. Or maybe Dylan?

_Or it could be all new guys. _But Ryan had a feeling that if Jake was out for revenge, he'd be bringing the old gang back together.

_Shit!_ How the hell had this happened? How had James even known where to find him? And how did they know who Seth was to him?

_They must have been watching the house. Seen us together. And they'd taken Seth... when? When he was walking back to the bar? Or when he was coming home?_

It didn't matter now. They had Seth, and he needed to figure out a way to get him back. Ryan knew he was screwed. Once he met James again, it would all be over. He would never make it out unhurt. He probably wouldn't even make it out alive. The only thing he could do now was try and ensure Seth's safety. If he offered himself as a trade... Ryan was what they wanted. But things were never that simple; they wouldn't just let Seth go, there was too great a risk that he'd go straight to the police.

Well, Ryan would have to bargain. At the diner. He could refuse to go with them, make them let Seth go, do something...

Ryan's rational side was pointing out all the flaws in this plan. It was telling him to phone the police, phone Sandy and Kirsten, let someone else help him. But what could they do? He knew James. He wouldn't think twice about killing Seth if the police showed up. One way or another, he was going to get his revenge. Ryan figured it was best to involve the smallest number of people possible. And if he couldn't get them to release Seth, then at least Seth would stand a better chance with him there. He knew James, knew his weaknesses. And...

_I can't leave Seth alone. _He had to go and face up to his past.

Ryan scanned the room quickly. He would have to take his phone, in case they called. A weapon of some sort was tempting, but James wasn't an idiot. He would search him; and if he found anything, it could only serve to make him angrier. Ryan's hand hesitated over the message pad on the dresser. He wanted to write Sandy and Kirsten a note, in case he... in case he never made it back. Ryan suddenly had to stifle a sob in his throat. If he never made it back... But he was wasting time. He moved away from the notepad. What could he say? He had brought his problems into their lives and now their son was suffering for it. There was nothing to say. He grabbed the car keys and left via the front door, only pausing once to look back at the house. Hoping against hope it wouldn't be the last time he ever saw it.

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Seth was breathing fast, his muscles taut and rigid as he tried to will away the pain in his fingers. Plaid Shirt had bent them so far back that for a moment Seth had been sure they'd separated from his hand. The agony had been so sudden he couldn't help but let out a scream. He regretted it now. Ryan would have heard, would be frantic. Not to mention the fact that he hated giving these guys any kind of satisfaction.

He hadn't fully understood the phone conversation, but he'd heard enough to know that Ryan knew these people... or the wiry guy at least. He had no idea how they knew each other or what had happened between them – but it didn't take a genius to see that this guy hated Ryan. And while part of Seth was desperate for Ryan to come and rescue him like he always did, he knew that the wiry guy was counting on that. Ryan would be in serious danger. It was better if he just stayed away, even if that meant that Seth would have to take his place. The wiry guy's words echoed in his head.

"_I hope we don't break him before you get here."_

Shit, he was scared. Seth closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else. Back at home, playing Grand Theft Auto, or reading comics, or eating dinner with his parents and Ryan. Seth tried to block out the ache in his fingers and the pounding in his head. He was at home, he was in bed, he was having a nightmare, any second now he'd wake up...

But when he opened his eyes again, the dim of the basement was the only thing he could see.

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Sorry, that was mostly just scene setting. There'll be more action in the next chapter, I promise...


	4. Enclosure

Disclaimer: Do not own anything to do with The O.C.

Warnings: The usual. Language, violence, angst etc.

Ryan was sat in the back of a van, staring up at blacked out windows. From the moment he'd stepped into the alleyway and seen Max (looking even bigger then when he had last saw him, like he'd been working out ever since) and Dylan (still as twitchy and on edge as he'd been the day they'd walked into that 7-Eleven four years ago) he'd known that he had nothing on his side. He had tried bargaining, threatening, even pleading. Max and Dylan, faces from another life, were immovable.

"_We take you to James. Then your friend can leave. That's the deal."_

There were no guarantees. Ryan had wanted time to think it over, time that he couldn't have. If he shouted, attracted someone's attention... if he called the police and they forced Max and Dylan to reveal where Seth was... But Max had flatly informed him they were keeping in touch with James by phone. If they missed a call, then James would assume the worst.

Ryan was out of options. It didn't really matter what happened to him. Going with them was the only chance he had at getting Seth back. Even though the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that there really wasn't any chance at all.

"_Get in the back." _Max had said. As Ryan began to move forward a waiter from the diner suddenly rounded the corner, trash in hand. He paused at the opening of the alleyway, assessing the scene before him. Ryan met his eye, and for one second he considered doing something, telling the waiter to call the police, to get help.

The second passed. The waiter dumped the trash and returned to his work. Ryan got in the back of the van.

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Seth had pressed his eyes shut. He could hear the wiry guy moving around near him, pacing, picking things up and dragging them across the room. Seth didn't want to risk being noticed. Let the wiry guy think he had passed out from fear. It wasn't too far from the truth.

Seth didn't open his eyes when he heard a vehicle pull up outside.

He didn't open his eyes when he heard the front door slam.

He didn't open his eyes when the door to the basement swung open.

He didn't open the eyes at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.

He didn't open his eyes when he heard James' sharp intake of breath.

Then he heard Ryan say his name, and he opened his eyes.

Ryan was standing a few feet away, Plaid Shirt close behind him. He looked pale and exhausted and in that instant Seth forgot how he'd prayed in the last hour for Ryan to come and rescue him, because now he wished him a million miles away from this basement and these people and what they might do to him.

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Since first meeting Max and Dylan at the diner, Ryan had maintained a blank face. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the old Chino ways, the imperative to never show anyone you were scared or angry or out of your depth. So he didn't react outwardly when he saw Seth, tied to a chair in a dingy basement with dried blood on his head, looking smaller than he'd even seen him. Inside he was sickened and angry and afraid, but his face remained impassive. He couldn't stop himself from saying his friend's name however, as quietly as a person at prayer.

Seth's eyes flew open. Ryan was about to speak when a figure stepped out of the shadows and into his eye line.

"Atwood."

James. He looked... old. Thinner than before - and his muscles tauter, as though he was constantly tensed up. The scar on his temple was new. So was the intricate tattoo running up his arm. And when Ryan forced himself to meet his eyes, they were devoid of emotion.

"I'm here." Ryan said in a voice that didn't feel quite like his own. "So let him go."

"What, no hug?" James said, with a smile that conveyed no amusement. "It's been four years, man. You not missed me?"

Ryan was silent. James regarded him for a moment and then shrugged.

"That's cold, man. You know, I spent a lot of time since I last saw you thinking about you. There ain't a lot to do in prison, you know? So I'm thinking about you, waiting for you to come visit but you never do. And then I get out and you don't even send a card, flowers, nothing. It's fucking harsh, man. I gotta tell you, I am a little hurt."

James reached out to put his hand on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan couldn't help but flinch.

"It's just common decency, you know? After all the times I looked out for you. And you don't give nothing back."

James had suddenly closed the gap between them.

"Specially since you were the one who got me locked up in the first place."

The mocking smile had disappeared from James' face, cold fury in its place.

"Did you really think I'd never come back for you?"

Before Ryan could react, could even begin to form a reply, James' fist swung round to connect with the side of his head with incredible force. A second blow to the stomach brought him to his knees, gasping at James' feet. He barely felt Max hoist him up and drag him across the room, directly behind Seth's chair to an area shadowed in the corner. It was only after Max pushed him to the floor that he realised he was surrounded by bars. It took Ryan a further ten seconds to process he was in what was effectively a cell, complete with a toilet and cracked sink in one corner and a metal bedstead covered by a single blanket in the other.

By the time this realisation came to him, Max had shut and locked the door.

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Seth couldn't crane his head far enough to see where Ryan was but the clang of metal had given him a pretty good idea. He was reeling as though he'd been the one hit, struggling to come to terms with the mess they were in and the dread of what was to come. Being unable to see Ryan was sufficiently terrifying to override his fear of drawing attention to himself.

"Ryan? Are you okay?" His voice was scratchy, desperate.

"He's fine." James appeared in front of Seth. "He's all safely locked up now. Given him a front row seat."

"Let Seth go." Ryan was indistinct, his speech slightly slurred. "Do what you want to me... just let him go."

"And why would I do that?" James' voice was soft, almost intimate. There was a sense of something uncoiling as he spoke, the final articulation of the master plan.

"You don't care what happens to you. You know, I've seen you after every time your mom passed out drunk, or her latest white trash boyfriend kicked your ass, or Trey got busted and thrown in juvie. You've been screwed up your whole life, Atwood. There ain't no more damage to be done."

James paused, tilting his head to one side.

"Pretty boy, on the other hand..."

Ryan made an involuntary movement forward.

"I reckon fucking him up might do a better job of fucking you up than I ever could."

For a moment, all Ryan could hear was blood rushing in his ears. This was beyond his worst nightmares. This was beyond anything...

James was smiling, allowing his words to sink in. Dylan was grinning too in the corner, cracking his knuckles in expectation. Max stood like a shadow to the side of Ryan's cell, impossibly big.

Seth didn't see any of this. He was staring into space. His brain was refusing to process what James had said. He felt numb all over, shell shocked and cold.

James' tone was triumphant when he next spoke.

"Showtime."


	5. Leather

Disclaimer: I can't emphasise how much I don't own The O.C.

Warnings: Language, violence, torture.

Sorry that it's been ridiculously long since I last updated, I've been away. Short chapter, but should update soon...

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"You wearing a belt, Atwood?" James asked conversationally. "Nope, I don't see one. I gotta check cos you don't get to keep your belt in prison, you know? First thing they took off me."

Ryan was sitting very still, like he was made of stone. His eyes were locked on James, on the movement of his hands and the proximity of his body to Seth.

"It's so you don't hang yourself. Belt and shoelaces. They take them off you. Course you can always find another way. Cellmate of mine hung himself with knotted up sheets. I heard of one kid who did it with a bandana." James laughed, the sound echoing through the silent room.

"They gave it back to me, anyway. When I got out. Doesn't fit as good as it used to, but I like it. Sentimental value, you know?"

Ryan watched as James detached a black leather belt with a gleaming silver buckle from a hook on the wall.

"James..." he managed before his voice gave out.

"Am I boring you, Atwood? I guess I'm just feelin' a little nostalgic today, what with the big reunion and all. Never mind. Enough talk." At a signal from James, Dylan sprang forward and untied the ropes binding Seth's hands.

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The sudden rush of blood back to Seth's wrists was sufficient to bring him out of shock. His eyes focussed on Plaid Shirt who was suddenly looming before him, holding a pair of handcuffs. The full horror of what the wiry guy (James, did Ryan just say?) had said a few minutes before finally began to sink in and as Plaid Shirt roughly pulled him to his feet, Seth twisted to face the direction Ryan had been dragged.

The sight was of no comfort.

He could see the cell Ryan was in and the hopelessness in his friend's eyes and it was enough to make him struggle against the grip of his captor. Plaid Shirt barely registered the movement, easily grabbing Seth's hands and pulling them above his head so that he could handcuff them to the metal pipe running across the ceiling of the basement. Seth found himself almost standing on the tip of his toes.

His breath was coming out in harsh gasps, his heart pounding so fast he felt like it might give out. The panic intensified when James stepped towards him, brandishing a penknife. He was on the verge of passing out as James pressed the knife to his chest but then there was a tearing sound and a rush of cold air and Seth's breathing eased slightly when he realised that James had only cut away his t-shirt. The feeling of relief was short-lived. Being half-naked in a room full of enemies made Seth feel intensely vulnerable. Plaid Shirt and Lighter had retreated slightly, the latter rocking back and forth in anticipation while the former stared at Seth, inscrutable. Seth looked away, and met Ryan's gaze. He could see Ryan mouthing something and he didn't have to be able to lip read to know it was an apology. He shook his head. _Not your fault._ Seth had heard what James said about Ryan being responsible for his being in prison. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew that Ryan was not the one in the wrong, then or now.

Although Seth must have felt James behind him, he didn't turn to see the belt in his hand. Ryan could see it. He was helpless. Pleading, threatening, offering himself in Seth's place: it was all futile. He concentrated on meeting Seth's eyes instead, trying to be with him.

When James first connected the buckle of the belt with Seth's back, Ryan couldn't help but make a noise of pain. Seth didn't make any noise. He looked completely and utterly shocked, his mouth frozen in a little o shape. It was only on the second and third blows and all that came after them that Seth began to cry out. Began to scream. Ryan felt like his heart was breaking.

Seth had never been hit like that before. Every strike sent fire down his back and he could feel the slow trickle of blood. He couldn't see James lashing out but he could hear the quickening of his breath from the exertion, and could sense the hatred radiating from him. It was terrifying. The pain was unbearable and James didn't seem to tire, didn't stop until Seth was hanging from the handcuffs, back slick with blood and sweat, whimpering like a child. He forgot Ryan, forgot the basement, forgot everything except the rhythm of the belt and the excruciating sting of each and every impact.

And then it was over. Max unlocked the handcuffs and Seth crumpled to the floor, curling up in an automatic defence of his body, still engulfed in a red haze of pain. Ryan watched from the cell, hands gripping the bars so tightly that his knuckles turned white.


	6. Reunion

Disclaimer: Still don't own The O.C.

Warnings: Language, angst etc.

Again, with the slow updating. I disgust myself, I really do.

Thank you to all reviewers: Pace1818, kkj, All-English Reject and xXxKIxXx – you are all far too kind.

*********************************************************************

Seth heard the click of James' fingers above him but he didn't look up, even when he felt Max dragging him to his feet and depositing him roughly on the floor of the cell in the corner.

Ryan's cell.

_Ryan._

Seth focussed his vision. Ryan's face swam into view, drawn with misery. He looked twenty years older.

Seth attempted to raise himself from his side into some kind of a sitting positions but the movement sent so much pain lancing down the welts on his back that the room blurred before him.

"Hey, hey... don't try and move just yet." Ryan's voice was close to Seth's ear, gentle and steady. Another time, another place, Seth would have let himself believe the reassurance implied in Ryan's calm tones. But he knew that Ryan was just trying to comfort him, that they were both as scared and powerless as each other.

Ryan suddenly moved out of sight. Craning his neck, Seth saw him reaching surreptitiously through the cell bars to grab at what looked like a rag but which Seth realised was his own discarded t-shirt. Seth caught his breath as he scanned the room for James and the others but relaxed slightly as he saw them huddled by the stairs, deep in conversation. Ryan stood and Seth heard the sound of running water and then felt a sudden blissful cool on the burning skin of his back. He couldn't see Ryan's face but he could just about make out the almost imperceptible shaking in Ryan's hands as they cleaned away the blood with the wet cloth.

*********************************************************************

Up close, Seth's back looked even worse than it had from two meters away.

Ryan had to fight to keep the horror creeping through his bones from taking over; he needed to keep it together. To maintain a clear head and think up a way out of here. He had tried to keep his voice even when he'd spoken to Seth, to sound like he was still in control. But of course he wasn't. What the hell could he say?

_Sorry that I'm the reason you've been kidnapped? Tied up in cellar? Beaten with a fucking belt until... Jesus._

Ryan forced himself to take a deep breath, and resumed his dabbing. And as he reached the point where no more could be done Ryan realised he was stalling, trying not to finish so that he wouldn't have to talk to Seth and explain why the Cohen's taking him in had been the mistake of their lives.

Perhaps Seth sensed this hesitation because he said Ryan's name, once, softly, and Ryan had no choice but to put the t-shirt down and move round to face his friend.

*********************************************************************

"I'm... I'm so sorry..." Ryan had to stop mid sentence, choked. Seth met his eyes and the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly.

"So this is why we don't hang out with your friends?"

Ryan looked shocked for a moment before the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

"I put up with Luke," he said and Seth laughed softly. A sudden motion by the stairs drew their attention and they turned to see James and Dylan walk up the stairs and out of the basement. Max remained, his face shadowed.

"Ryan... who are those guys?" Seth's voice was low.

"The big one's called Max Dawes. The twitchy guy's Dylan Nascardo, and the leader's James Foster."

"Why are they..." Seth trailed off. "You put James in prison? Is that what this is about?"

"Yeah." Ryan sounded defeated. "It's revenge. On me. Seth, I'm so-"

Seth put up his hand, wincing slightly. "Don't. It's not your fault, man."

Ryan wasn't convinced. He was shaking his head, guilt stabbing at him as he listened to Seth's pain filled voice.

"Listen, I wanna sit up... give me a hand?"

Slowly, painstakingly, Ryan helped manoeuvre Seth into a sitting position. He realised Seth was shivering from the cold and unbuttoned his shirt to give it to him. Seth hissed in pain as the fabric touched the wounds on his back, and blood seeped through the cloth almost instantly but the shivering stopped. Ryan didn't feel cold in his wife beater. He felt too hot, like the air in the room was running out. He could feel Seth looking at him.

"Any chance you have a plan?" Seth said quietly.

Ryan shook his head. "I'm trying to think." He paused. "I came to try and get James to let you go and keep me here instead."

"James seems to like having me around," Seth said flatly. "Anyone know you're here?"

"No."

"Guess it's up to us then." Seth's voice was deliberately level.

"If I get a chance to do... anything... anything that distracts the three of them, you have to get out."

Seth sought Ryan's eyes. "Without you?"

"It's me he really wants. He'd fight to keep me here over you, so if you get the chance..."

Ryan was resolutely refusing to meet Seth's gaze.

"Ryan... he wouldn't kill you? Not over four years of prison?" Seth knew he was being naive. People get killed over six-packs of beers. But they were only seventeen, for Christ's sake. The idea of Ryan dying opened up a gaping black hole in his mind that Seth didn't dare look into for fear of getting lost.

Ryan finally looked at Seth.

"He brought me here to kill me. If we don't get out... he will."

Seth drew a long shaky breath.

"Okay. Okay. We need to get out then."

"Agreed," said Ryan grimly. "If we had a weapon or something..." He scanned the cell around him. Seth was looking over at Max.

"Did he used to be your friend?"

"They all were," Ryan said tiredly.

"What happened? How did you get James put in prison? Did you-"

Seth stopped mid sentence as the door to the basement swung open. James made his way down the stairs, followed by Dylan who went to the back of the room and set something down on the table.

James surveyed Ryan and Seth as he walked towards the cell. Ryan jumped to his feet, positioning himself between Seth and James.

"Had a nice catch up?"

He rattled the bars, grinning as Seth flinched involuntarily.

"Pretty boy's jumpy. Guess he knows what's coming." James cracked his knuckles. "Round two."

"No," said Ryan firmly.

James' hand shot through the bars, grasping Ryan's throat in a vice like grip.

"Atwood, Atwood, Atwood." He shook his head theatrically. "How the fuck do you plan on stoppin' me?"

*******************************************************************

All reviews are welcomed, nay, encouraged.


	7. Shock

Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I was definitely not Josh Schwartz. The O.C. = not mine.

Warnings: Violence, torture, language, angst.

It's been such an embarrassingly long time since I updated that I'm actually crying salty tears of shame as I type this out.

~OC~

Ryan's mouth was full of blood.

He didn't know when he'd bitten his tongue, the dull ache was barely a distraction. He was staring across the room at Seth, sat in the chair again. Untied this time, but there was no comfort in that.

Ryan's eyes flicked to James, watched him light a cigarette, saw the smoke curl around his hands. He swallowed hard and felt the coppery tang of blood in the back of his throat.

"Nothing like a smoke." James sighed appreciatively. "Getting a cigarette in prison, that wasn't fucking easy. And then you'd be lighting up and some fucking screw'd come along and knock it out your hand, just for kicks."

James leaned forward.

"You still smoke, Atwood?"

Ryan didn't answer.

"Cos you can have one, if you want. Gotta have something I want, though."

James seemed unfazed by Ryan's silence. He wandered over to the bars, adopting a conspiratorial tone.

"You know, in prison, pretty boy over there'd get traded for a pack of smokes." He chuckled, turning to Seth. "You hear that, doll? Better hope you don't go to lock-up, you'd be on your knees in half an hour."

Dylan snickered, suddenly appearing by the chair, and Seth flinched. James laughed.

"Tell you what, maybe later I'll let you try an' trade your way out of here. No, for real, I think you're prettier than my last girlfriend."

James was suddenly wrenched back towards the bars.

"Shut the fuck up." Ryan bit the words out, hand twisting to keep its grip on the back of James' shirt.

Max started forward but James wrenched himself free, turning to face Ryan. He looked furious and Ryan braced himself. But James stepped backwards, never taking his eyes off Ryan, and grabbed Seth's hand, flipping it palm up. Then he held up his still burning cigarette and pushed the tip into Seth's hand.

~OC~

Seth had made a silent promise to himself to hold it together. When Max dragged him out of the cell and shoved him down in the chair, he kept his face as blank as possible. He wouldn't let them know he was scared anymore. It was what they wanted. And it was killing Ryan. To see Seth in pain. He had to be... _well 'brave' sounded so stupid, like some kid in a Band Aid commercial or something. Strong? Steely? Wolverine like? _

Back in high school Seth used to wish he had superpowers so he could send the water polo jocks flying. Now he just wanted them so he wouldn't start crying.

He'd been doing okay, till all the stuff about prison and trading. He tried telling himself that James was just pushing Ryan's buttons (_which, hey, that worked)_, that it was just a joke, but a tight knot of fear had formed in his chest, constricting his breath. _Ryan wouldn't let them _he thought automatically, and then remembered. _Ryan can't actually stop them. _

Seth felt like he might throw up. If James made him do... _that. _

Then his thoughts were interrupted by Ryan pulling James back against the bars. Dread gnawed at him when James turned to face Ryan, it swept over him when James started backwards to grab his hand.

Then, blinding, white hot pain. Seth forgot the promise he made himself. He screamed.

~OC~

"Look what you made me do." James' tone was mocking again, the fury had dissipated. "Waste of a good cigarette."

Ryan felt like he could rip the iron bars apart with his bare hands. He wanted to destroy James, to tear him to pieces. He forced himself to calm down, before he said something else that got Seth into trouble. He looked over at Seth, who was cradling his hand close to his body, sucking in breath through his teeth. Ryan concentrated on the rise and fall of Seth's chest, counted slowly to ten and felt his heart rate slow a little. The rage was still there but he could contain it.

"So where was I? Oh yeah, trading cigarettes, all that shit goes on in prison. The movies got that part right. You ever watch prison movies, Atwood? They get a lot wrong but some stuff they do good. Like riots. A riot always fucking breaks out, don't it? All the alarms going off, guards with rubber bullets, shit like that." James yawned elaborately. "They don't use rubber bullets any more. Or pepper spray. Or water hoses. Nah, Chino State's all modern now. They got fuckin' tasers"

On cue, Dylan picked one up from the table, holding it out for James to take.

"Tasers fuckin' work, man. They jar your brain, fuck up all your limbs till you're a fucking mess. Guy I knew, they tased him too much and anytime you saw him he'd be fucking drooling, arms spazzing out all over the place."

James turned the taser over in the light admiringly. Seth's eyes were locked on it, his mouth pressed in a grim line.

"Anyway, I liked 'em so much that a friend hooked me up with this when I got out. I ain't had the chance to put it to the test yet, so if you'll excuse me..."

"James, wait-" Ryan said, desperately.

"Save it."

James walked slowly and deliberately over to the chair then stuck the taser between Seth's ribs.

The first shock spasmed his body. Seth felt like he was dying. It hurt everywhere and his brain seemed to white out for a few seconds. When his mind cleared, he was on the floor. He lay there panting, still feeling the vibrations through his body. Then James loomed overhead. "No-" Seth gasped out. "Please d-" James connected the taser with the centre of his chest and this time he didn't pull it off right away. Seth was twitching, his chest was exploding, God, he was going to die, right here, right now...

~OC~

Ryan had bitten his tongue again but he didn't care. The sight of Seth on the floor, helpless, shaking like he was having a fit was enough to make Ryan think he was really losing it, his own body was tingling hot and cold, his hands were numb, his legs felt like they couldn't support him.

James shocked Seth three more times. Then he tased the bars of the cell, laughing when Ryan jumped back.

~OC~

I so don't deserve reviews but would actually love them if you have any spare ones lying around. Or if you just want to heap abuse on me, I know I kind of deserve that.


	8. Thirst

Disclaimer: Really, really don't own it.

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Humble and great thanks to all reviewers for the last few chapters (some of whom I forgot to mention last time because I'm a bad person) : kkj, All-English Reject, chiclete, ema neslaf, Linoria, goldenspringtime, triniwriters, SGreenD, Pace1818, darkorangecat, and Summer-08. You fill my world with delight :)

~OC~

Seth was unconscious.

Time had passed, how much Ryan didn't know, but he had a nagging suspicion that he should be trying to wake Seth up, that it was dangerous for him to drift away like this, especially with a head injury...

Then there was the other thought, which said that Seth was far, far better off this way.

When Max had carried him back into the cell (laying Seth down not on the floor, as Ryan had expected, but on the bed, and with surprising gentleness too) Ryan had buried his emotions as deep as possible and tried to summon up some detachment. He would look Seth over for injuries, try a little DIY doctoring, and make him as comfortable as possible.

_As comfortable as possible _Ryan thought._ Like I'm preparing him for death._

He ran water on the t-shirt again and dabbed at the congealed blood on the back of Seth's head, then tore off a strip and wrapped it round the hand burned by the cigarette, tying it off at the back. Ryan noticed a discolouring bruise spreading across two fingers of Seth's other hand and surmised that this must be the damage inflicted while he was listening on the phone. He felt them gingerly and concluded that they weren't broken or dislocated; there was nothing he could do.

One of Dawn's boyfriends had broken Ryan's index finger once, he stamped on it when- _no, stop it, there's no time for that. _

He had no feelings, he was a blank, he was untouchable.

He had to be.

But forcing himself to lift Seth's shirt and see the taser burn marks standing out starkly on pale skin was almost impossible. Nothing to be done again, water wouldn't help, he didn't know what would. He pulled the shirt back down and gently turned Seth on his side to get a look at his back. He had a vague idea Seth should be on his side anyway. _Recovery position _Ryan thought and, unbidden, a memory surfaced of the school nurse and her attempts to teach first aid - with her stupid resuscitation doll and her squeaky little voice as she urged the class to "Pound and blow, everybody!" The class had laughed uproariously; recalling it, Ryan felt a bubble of hysteria rise in his throat. He laughed once, twice, shoulders shaking; and then suddenly felt like he might weep instead. _Stop it. Stop it. _He rubbed his temples and refocused.

The blood on Seth's back had dried, clinging to the shirt, it wasn't ideal but washing it again might open the cuts again and Ryan didn't want that. He found a clean edge of the cloth and dabbed at Seth's forehead instead, feeling the heat radiating off him. Seth stirred slightly and Ryan froze, realising he really didn't want Seth to wake up yet. He couldn't bear to have Seth look at him, to see him pretend that the pain wasn't so bad, to see the forgiveness in his eyes. Ryan didn't feel like he deserved forgiveness. Whatever happened now, whether they got out of here or not, there'd be no way to repair this damage. Seth had been dragged into something dark, and sick, and terrifying, and that was Ryan's fault.

Seth's eyelids fluttered, jolting Ryan from his reverie. He mustered up the calmest expression possible. He had no feelings. He wasn't afraid.

~OC~

All Seth knew was everything hurt. His body had retained the memory of the shocks, he still felt the reverberations in his chest, and his hand was throbbing. The pain in his back and fingers had faded to a dull ache but they were hard to ignore, and his head was still aching. He saw Ryan and tried to speak but his throat was too dry. He coughed, tried again, and managed to rasp out "Water?"

Ryan sprang to his feet but they both realised the problem instantly, there was nothing to put it in. Three times Ryan attempted to pool it in his hands and bring it over but it trickled out before he made it. Ryan tried to get him to suck from the damp t-shirt but Seth couldn't do it, the shirt was stained with blood and made him gag. Ryan clenched his fist and got up again. Seth watched as he braced himself and then walked over to the bars.

"James." Ryan's voice was completely neutral. "James. I need a cup."

Seth let out an involuntary whimper as James approached the cell. He looked over in amusement before fixing his eyes back on Ryan's.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No." Ryan didn't change his tone. "Seth needs water."

James tipped his head to one side.

"Beg."

"Please," Ryan said instantly. "Please let us have a cup."

James smiled.

"Good boy. But... no."

"Please, James." A note of desperation had crept into Ryan's voice.

"I told you how things work round here. If pretty boy wants a cup, he's welcome to try an' earn it." James turned to the bed. "Right, _Seth?_ Anytime you're ready sweetheart..."

Ryan slammed his hand against the bar as James walked away, laughing. Seth waited for his heartbeat to slow to normal. Somehow James using his name felt horribly personal, like a violation.

He shut his eyes, trying to forget his terrible thirst, trying not to think about the immense power James held over them.

~OC~

Twenty minutes later there was a noise by the cell door. Ryan and Seth tensed in anticipation, but the door did not open and James and Dylan remained in their dark corner on the opposite side of the room, paying no attention.

When Ryan stepped forward he found a small white mug standing on the floor. He looked out but Max had his back to him, sparking up a cigarette by the wall, his face flickering in the match light like a ghost's.

~OC~

Okay, short one, but next chapter will hopefully be up by the weekend - in which Ryan's past with James will be explained.

As ever, thanks to everyone keeping up with this scarcely updated story, and all reviews / concrit will be warmly and joyfully received. Some kind of singing might even be involved.


	9. Luck

Disclaimer: Not much is certain in life, but I definitely don't own The O.C.

Warnings: Angst, guns.

Thank you so much to triniwriters, Pace1818, Summer-08, SGreenD for your most excellent reviews. As promised, joyful singing was definitely involved (Safety Dance in case you're wondering what...)

~OC~

Seth drank two cups of water and then started coughing. Ryan helped him lay back down (_and, Jesus, it'd been hard enough to sit him up without touching a sore spot... and with Seth pretending he was fine) _and waited for the fit to subside. It took five minutes and Seth looked exhausted. And there was blood on his hand.

"Did you just cough that up?" Ryan said. Seth looked down at his hand in surprise and then back at Ryan.

"Well, Moulin Rouge tells me this isn't good" he croaked, but Ryan couldn't raise a smile.

"We have to get out," he said, as if saying it out loud might help them think of a plan. Seth nodded but his eyes were unfocused, as though he was too weary to think. _I'm losing him _thought Ryan desperately.

"Hey Seth, talk to me."

"Too tired." He was slurring slightly.

"Come on, man, ask me a question."

Seth didn't reply for so long that Ryan began to wonder if he'd passed out again but then he said:

"How do you know these guys?"

It wasn't a story Ryan wanted to tell, but he wanted to keep Seth alert, keep him from slipping away. And he had the right to know.

~OC~

"They were Trey's friends to begin with. James and Max and Dylan, they all lived in the neighborhood and Trey used to hang out with them. I wasn't allowed to come mostly, I was only thirteen and they didn't want some kid tagging along. But then, in summer, Trey got this girlfriend and he started spending all his time with her. So, uh, they let me kind of take his place."

Ryan passed his hand over his eyes. He remembered it all so clearly. Endless hot days, riding their bikes through the streets, smoking behind the old town hall, passing round whatever bottle James managed to lift from the liquor store. It was happiness, and he didn't even know it at the time. It wasn't to last.

"So we spent most of the summer together. Then one day, James says we're going to the 7-Eleven."

It was past ten 'o' clock and only just beginning to get dark. Ryan was supposed to be home by nine but he didn't care. Dawn's latest boyfriend was a regulation asshole and with Trey practically living at his girlfriend's house, Ryan was getting the brunt of his attention. Best to stay out as much as possible.

Ryan was counting the change in his pocket, figuring out if he had enough for a candy bar when James stopped halfway across the car park.

"You guys know what you're doing?"

Max and Dylan nodded. James turned to Ryan.

"Okay, listen up Atwood, we're going in to get a few bottles of Jack and I need you to be lookout, okay? Police roll by, you come tell us, yeah?"

Ryan was surprised, but he muttered his assent. Usually James went in by himself, he always said it was less suspicious. Still, lookout was an important job and James had trusted him with it. He felt a flicker of pride as they approached the neon lit store.

James left him outside ("Light up or something kid, you look shifty just standing there") and Ryan sat on the curb, his eyes scanning the road for any passing cars. It was one of those sticky nights where the balmy air seemed viscous and thick. Ryan thought of his tiny room back home, with the window that got stuck when you tried to open it too far, and vowed to stay out as long as he could.

A single gunshot shattered his reverie.

He looked back at the 7-Eleven and to his abject horror James was standing in front of the counter, a ski-mask obscuring his face, pointing a revolver straight at the terrified assistant.

Ryan had seen guns before, sure, they weren't exactly scarce in Chino – but never like this. There was a line, everyone knew it, a line between shoving a few things in your jacket while the owner's back was turned and actually pointing a weapon in their face.

Armed robbery. _Oh shit. _

Dylan had vaulted the counter and was shoving the money from the cash register into his backpack. James' mouth was moving but Ryan couldn't make out the words through the glass; but he could see that James was smiling and that the assistant had his hands held out in supplication. There was broken glass all over from the display case James had fired at.

_Stay calm. _He hadn't known and there was nothing he could do now. He would leave. James would be furious but he could say he was ill, that he had to go home.

Then he would stop hanging round with them, for good. This was too far, too risky. Ryan still remembered the day they took his father away, and this was too close for comfort.

He looked back through window, stepping away already, eager to get out of there. They looked to be finishing up, Dylan had come back round from the counter with the bags and Max had his arms full of bottles. Ryan froze, torn. Should he just wait for them? Was he making a big deal over nothing?

Then it happened.

The girl must have been in the stockroom. They later found out she'd had earphones in so she never heard the gunshot. She walked right through the side door, adjacent to the counter, a box balanced in her hands. Ryan watched as she took in the scene, unnoticed by anyone, he counted one, two, three...

She dropped the box. James turned and fired.

To this day, Ryan sees her falling in his dreams. The expression on her face, her mouth a little 'o' of surprise. The blood blooming suddenly, redder than roses. Her hand reaching out across the floor, then pulling back in slowly, like she'd realised there was no-one there to help her.

James dropped the gun. His hands were shaking. He stepped towards the girl and then stopped and, almost imperceptibly, shook his head, like he just couldn't believe it.

That's when the police showed up. Ryan doesn't remember much after that, just a roaring in his ears and a policeman at the station lending him his jacket because, despite the humid air, Ryan can't stop shivering.

He's not put in the cell with the others but goes straight for 'a little chat' with a detective. He tells them everything.

Then Dawn arrives and takes him home. At first she's shouting, swearing at him, and cursing the Atwood luck. Then she cries and hugs him and when the asshole boyfriend comes in to lay in to Ryan about getting arrested she tells him go away, for once.

Another memory lingers on from that night, Dawn holding him till he falls asleep, telling him everything will be okay.

~OC~

The prosecutors give Ryan full immunity from even so much as a caution, in return for testimony. He gives evidence via video link. He doesn't think he can face any of them again.

Dylan and Max get two years each. James gets six.

He isn't charged with murder because the girl doesn't die.

Lucky Laura Sampson who hangs on long enough for the paramedics to save her. Lucky Laura Sampson, the bullet missing the heart, the lungs, the liver, and planting itself in her spinal cord. Lucky Laura Sampson, nineteen years old and paralysed from the waist down.

Ryan sees her parents on television outside the courthouse on the day of sentencing, weeping. "It's not long enough," her mother keeps saying.

"He may as well have killed her," her father says.

Lucky Laura. Ryan thinks about her every day.

~OC~

Ryan could feel Seth looking at him but he didn't meet his gaze.

"I knew he'd come find me. I just didn't know I only had four years. He must have got out early on good behaviour." Ryan almost laughed.

Seth started to say something but another bout of coughing racked his body, cutting off any speech. Ryan bit his lip and refilled the water cup. When it was over, Seth wiped his hand on the blanket. They both pretended not to see the blood stain.


	10. Security

Disclaimer: Fairly certain I don't own it.

Warnings: Basically none for this chapter. Bit of language. Parental angst. Mild peril? This chapter actually has no mild peril; I just like it when movie trailers have that warning.

So I haven't updated for approximately four million years. As we say on the internetz, epic fail. Accept my deep apologies and the promise of another chapter very very shortly.

~OC~

Tag Jackson was bored. Incredibly bored. The Sanctuary was about as dead as any nightclub before opening hours could be, and he really didn't appreciate being called in to some stupid staff training meeting. His shift began in half an hour, but rather than going out for a coffee or something when he had the chance, Mel managed to rope him into reviewing the security footage from last night. And man, was it dull. He was fast forwarding through the parking lot video, watching cars come in and go out and the occasional drunk girl stumbling on her high heels as she left the club until something caught his eye. He rewound it, once, twice, three times. Then he thought for a second, and opened the office door to call Mel over from behind the bar.

"Tell me you're bored again and I'm smashing this bottle over your head. It's Sunday evening Tag, there's only so much-"

"No, it's not that, look at this tape."

"What?"

Tag didn't reply, motioning to the recording and hitting play. Mel watched in silence as a weaving figure made his way across the parking lot. Three men got out of a van and approached him, and there seemed to be some sort of conversation. Then the first guy carried on the way he was going, and after a short pause, the other three followed him. All four disappeared from the screen. Then there was a long pause, before one of those guys hurried back across the camera view, got into the van and drove it over in the direction they'd all gone. A minute later the van reversed and left the lot. That was it.

Mel looked hard at Tag.

"And?"

"Don't you think it's weird?"

"Not really."

"But why'd they follow him? Then bring the van over even though the exit's on the other side of the lot?"

"Tag, I don't think-" Mel began, but he cut her off.

"And look, if you zoom in, which you can't really do that well cos the quality's too shitty but you can see there's something in that tall guy's hand that he's hiding behind his back when they first approach the drunk guy."

Mel peered at the zoomed in image.

"Shit, you're right. That guy does have some kind of blurry object in his hand. My God, what did the FBI say when you called them?"

"Funny," Tag said. "But look, it could be a weapon or something. They could've attacked the guy."

"You watch too many cop shows," Mel said dismissively. "If that's all..."

Tag started to say something but one of the bartenders put his head round the door.

"Found a wallet under the table, Mel. Driver's license says a Seth Cohen, want me to give him a call?"

"That's the guy from the video!" Tag suddenly said. "I knew he looked familiar, he was in here last night with Summer Roberts."

"Summer Roberts was here last night and nobody told me?" the bartender said with a grin. "That girl is so fine, I'd like to take her out back and-"

"Yeah thanks Pete, save it for the Penthouse letter page would you?" Mel said. "Right Tag, you can call this guy and when he answers and confirms he wasn't beaten to death in the parking lot last night maybe you can drop the Columbo act and get back to work yeah?"

"Fine." Tag sighed, before flicking the monitor off. At least he managed to pass ten minutes.

~OC~

Sandy and Kirsten weren't expecting a four course banquet to welcome them home when they trudged through the door at nine o clock that night, but they had hoped that Seth and Ryan might at least be around to say hello.

"IMAX? Summer or Marissa's? Crack den in Harlem?" Sandy said once they'd been round the house together.

"As long as they're not in a model home I don't really care." Kirsten replied, heading to the kitchen. "Let me put some tea on and then we'll give them a call."

She paused in the act of reaching for the teabags.

"I'm suddenly beginning to feel a strange sense of guilt for all those times I went out without leaving my parents a note when I was their age."

"Ah, don't feel too bad, Caleb could have always summoned his minions of darkness if he really wanted to know where you were."

"Oh that's nice," said Kirsten, laughing. "After I just spent a weekend being quizzed on Judaic scripture by your mother, I'd keep quiet if I were you."

"Oh, my little Gentile bride, did the Nana make you nervous?" Sandy said, wrapping his arms around Kirsten's waist.

"Gentile bride? That's a new one," said Kirsten, turning to allow Sandy to lean in for a kiss. After several enjoyable seconds, the phone rang.

"Just when I was going to take advantage of the boys being out," Sandy groaned before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, this is Tag. Could I speak to Seth Cohen please?" the voice on the other end said.

"Seth's not here right now, this is his father. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah, we found his wallet here at the Sanctuary bar so he can come pick it up anytime basically."

Sandy raised his eyebrows at the mention of the Sanctuary in connection with his distinctly underage son.

"Thanks, I'll let him know." _Maybe he can pick the wallet up when he's not grounded anymore, a.k.a. when he graduates._

The conversation appeared to be over, yet the man on the other end seemed reluctant to hang up.

"Was there anything else?" Sandy asked politely.

"No, it's just... have you actually seen your son today?"

"Not yet, me and my wife just returned from a trip out of town. Why?"

"Uh, it's probably nothing... I was just reviewing the security tapes from last night, and it looks like your son came back just after the bar closed at like 3, maybe to get his wallet... and, uh, the footage was kinda weird."

"Weird how?" Sandy said sharply.

"Uh, these guys appear, then he walks off screen and they follow him... then, I dunno. He never actually came inside the bar to get his wallet last night after that anyway."

"But you said the bar was closed."

"Yeah but the lights stay on and you can see the staff cleaning up through the glass doors so he coulda come in. But he never did."

Sandy furrowed his brow for a second.

"Are there no other angles on the camera?"

"No, sorry, we just have one in the lot. There is a gas station across the street that might have different view though."

"Right."

"It's probably nothing... I just- I thought you should know."

"Yes. Thank you. Hopefully he'll come back any minute."

"Sure, I bet he will. We'll hang on to the wallet till he can come get it, anyway."

Sandy gave a strained goodbye and hung up the phone. Kirsten was looking at him, concerned.

"Who was that?"

"Seth left his wallet at a bar last night."

"What bar? Oh, he's in big trouble-"

"No, that's not all. The guy asked if we'd seen Seth yet today, he said the security footage showed that Seth came back last night after hours but he never went in to claim it. He said... he said there were some guys in the parking lot and they were following Seth."

"Oh my God, did they do something to him?" The color had drained out of Kirsten's face.

"The guy didn't know, they went off-screen. Don't panic yet, honey, it's extremely unlikely anything happened." But Sandy's own face was pale.

~OC~

They spent the next twenty minutes dialling and redialling Seth and Ryan's cell phones. Both were switched off. Then they called Marissa, who knew nothing, and Summer, who told them about the conversation from earlier.

"I didn't hear from Ryan again so I figured Seth had come back. I did try calling them both later, but neither picked up."

"I see." Sandy said. Kirsten was beside him, biting her lip.

"Do you think something bad's happened?" asked Summer, her voice small.

Sandy couldn't answer.

~OC~

They ended up driving to the gas station opposite Sanctuary. The half-awake cashier took some convincing to get out the security tapes but Sandy's best lawyer voice and Kirsten's name dropping of Caleb and his influence got the job done in the end.

"It was around 3am." Sandy said anxiously as the cashier sighed and fast forwarded. Suddenly a small figure appeared on the corner of the screen and Kirsten reached out to hit play, ignoring the cashier's protests.

They watched in silence the meeting, then Seth walking away and then, sickeningly clear despite the grainy footage, one of the guys stepping forward to hit their son over the head and bundle him into a van.

"Shit, man," the cashier mumbled. "Want me to call the police?"

Silent tears were running down Kirsten's face. Sandy was gripping the tabletop like it was the only thing that could hold him up. The cashier took them both in and then picked up the phone.


	11. Games

Disclaimer: I barely own a functional computer, let alone The O.C.

Warnings: Language, violence, references to non-con, angst angst angst. This chapter is not nice, especially towards the end so please take heed.

So I managed to update within a week. This is almost good. What is not good is that I forgot to thank reviewers last time like a massive massive jerk so many sincere thanks to Pace1818, alwaysgrey, bubblegum-flavored icecream, darkorangecat, SupernaturalCanary19, and SGreenD, it really is terribly nice of you.

I have left Ryan and Seth in limbo for long enough, so without further ado:

~OC~

"Do you guys wanna play a game?"

Seth was handcuffed to the ceiling pipe again. They'd taken his shirt. James was standing very very close to him. Ryan tried to register these facts dispassionately, to detach himself enough to focus on a way of getting them out of there. It wasn't working. There was a terrifying blankness in Seth's eyes that Ryan couldn't look away from. It was the kind of look Trey started to get in the years following their dad's arrest, channelling the kind of numbness that comes with being pushed too far. It meant he'd given up. Ryan had seen what giving up had done to Trey and he knew that Seth couldn't slip away now, not if they had any chance of surviving this.

Seth gave no reaction to James' question and Ryan couldn't see the point of answering. James didn't seem to notice. Then:

"Hey!"

James looked up suddenly, as though an idea had occurred to him.

"You know what game I never used to love when I was a kid? Hangman!"

Ryan took a sharp breath and James turned to look at him, a smile stealing across his face.

"Chill out Atwood, I'm not gonna hang pretty boy... not right now anyways. I just wanna play a straight up game, right? I'll think of the word, you guess letters till you get it."

"Let me guess, everyone he gets wrong you're gonna do something to me." Seth's voice was low, and hoarse. James turned to him in a parody of delight.

"Look who found his voice! But no, what d'you think of me, huh? That's just cruel. I want a simple, honest game of Hangman, no tricks."

Seth regarded him warily. James looked back at Ryan.

"You in, Atwood? Word I'm thinking of, it's got five letters. You got a guess for me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Sure you do. But you're gonna offend me if you don't play, and you know what I'm like when I sulk, just lashing out at the nearest thing..."

"Alright, I get it," Ryan said through gritted teeth. He knew there was a catch, but there was nothing to be gained by refusing to play. "'A'."

"Sorry, no 'A'." Ryan and Seth both tensed as James went over to the table in the corner and picked something up. "So you know what comes now..."

James walked back to stand next to Seth and displayed what was hidden in his hand. A piece of paper and a pen. Ryan watched disbelievingly as James drew a scaffold and then a little circle for a head.

"You only got five more, Atwood," James said playfully.

"Uh... 'S'" Ryan couldn't figure out James' angle. He watched as James scored a little line for a body on the paper.

"You're bad at this," said James cheerfully. "Go again."

"'E'," Ryan said.

"You got one!" James grinned broadly. "Feel like throwing you a fucking ticker tape parade." He moved his pen down to the paper and then paused. "Shit. Didn't leave enough space for the answer. Oh, I know!"

He walked back over to the table and grabbed at a compact item in the corner. A knife. Ryan could see the gleam even from the cell. He swallowed hard. Seth turned to see and then quickly turned away again, like he couldn't let himself acknowledge what James was holding.

"Okay then. I'd get another piece of paper but we got a nice flow going here, don't wanna break up the game. You don't mind, do you, sweetheart?"

It seemed to Ryan like James approached Seth in slow motion but he knew it wasn't true, even though everything seemed slower and thicker in the room, like in a nightmare. He never remembered his nightmares, he thought abstractly, but if he lived to get out of this cellar, he knew what all his nightmares for the rest of his life would be about.

James held the knife flat against Seth's chest for a moment, the cool blade pressing onto the burning skin, reflecting light from the bulb up above.

~OC~

Seth tried to let go. He wanted to slip out of his body, let his mind float away, spare himself consciousness. It wasn't unrealistic, his mind was hazy from everything they had already done to him; his limbs felt heavy and unreal, his eyes were losing focus, he was hearing everything from a slight distance. When he saw the knife he knew what it meant and Seth suddenly doubted his ability to get through it. _Let me pass out _he begged silently. _Let me go to sleep. Let me... _He couldn't say the word die, even in his mind, but some small part of him, some atom of utter hopelessness was already whispering it.

He almost managed it. His eyes were swimming, he could barely see James in front of him and he could feel a great wave of exhaustion pass over him. He was going, he was disconnecting...

Then the pain brought him back.

James made five long thin cuts on his chest. Then he began to carve an 'E' onto the last one. At first the knife only stung him, a sudden sharp shock, but soon it became unbearable, a searing, unremitting hurt that spread through his whole body. His throat was too raw to scream so all that came out was a kind of moan, like a dying animal. The pain would not let him leave, it was too intense, too immediate, he could only writhe in the handcuffs, twisting as far away from James as he could get.

He was crying. The tears that trickled down into his mouth tasted like salt.

~OC~

Ryan was past tears. He'd shut up when James had first started, refusing to play anymore, overwhelmed by what his participation in the game had meant. And when James had shrugged and carried on cutting Ryan had opened his mouth again and cursed him; shouting out every name under the sun, listing in the great detail exactly what he was going to do to him when he got out of the cell. James just stood there calmly, taking it all.

"You done? You done now? You ready to carry on?"

_No_ Ryan said, over and over. _No no no._

"Okay, let's try this then. I'll carve out the whole alphabet and then we can go through each letter and cross it out?"

Ryan swore again, stalling for time. He knew he was beaten. So he guessed letters and watched Seth break before his eyes and tasted the bitterness of his friend's tears without ever shedding one himself. He tried to guess unusual letters, like X and Z so that he'd lose the game on paper but the little man was hung and James just threw the page away and carried on playing. By the time it got to the third letter Ryan had a pretty good idea what the word was. But James made him play to the bitter end.

Ryan tried to focus on Seth's eyes, to lend support, without taking in the rest of him. The word WHORE stood out starkly on his pale skin but Seth did not look down to see it.

~OC~

James was wiping off his knife and smiling. He looked at Ryan and his eyes lit up in malice.

"You like it?"

"I hope," Ryan said quietly. "I hope that when I kill you, I get to do it slow."

"You're not a fan then?" James' voice was silky. "I was just prepping him. For the next part of the game."

He paused.

"See, first you give him the name. And then you make him live up to it."

"You... you can't... he doesn't..." Ryan could feel panic rising in him, so swift and sudden he couldn't speak properly. All his anger was gone and mind numbing fear was sweeping in its place.

"James, no, please no... James, come on man, for fuck's sake, this is me here - I'm sorry okay, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ratted you out, I was wrong... are you listening? I take it back, I take it back, I'll tell the police, I'll tell everyone, James? James, please... fuck, PLEASE."

James was smiling. All Ryan could see was the smile. He clicked his fingers and Max came forward to undo Seth's handcuffs and help him to the ground. Seth sat for a second, looking at his chest. Then he touched his fingers to the word scarred into his chest and they came away covered in blood.

James spun round.

"Get on your knees."

~OC~

Um, I don't feel good after that. Reviews are welcome if you're in the mood.


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